The time was registration day; the place was a a small town in Southern Illinois. There was no girl. He was a gentleman of color, and the registrar was having considerable trouble explaining the whys and wherefors of the registration. At last Rastus showed a faint glimmer of intelligence.
Dis heyah registrashum fo' de draf' am a whole lot like 'lection votin', ain't it? he asked uncertainly.
Yes, answered the kindly registrar.
Rastus scratched his head in troubled doubt. He was thinking deeply. Presently his brow cleared and a smile spread over his face. He had come to a decision.
Den I votes for Julius Jackson ter be drafted, he said. "I nebah did hab no use fo' dat niggah."